Eldest Daughter Tells All
My mom, she, when I was just three,
Would binge operas of soaps, and she
Tethered to the television, after her sail
Home from Pearl Harbor, would not fail
To hug and kiss our butterfly eyes and cheeks.
She’d store mama’s milk in freeze for weeks.
As we’d march off to church crammed in car,
Mom saw her binge as a sin and went as far
As to stop watching all three, especially as
We’d call them Mama’s Soaps. Her new jazz
Is God and the bible, and her church friends.
Some have kids our age. On weekends
We’d go to explore the beach, but then
We all moved and Mama said Amen.
My brother, once said, Mom, you’re not old enough to
knit and crochet. She said, Then how do we learn to?
Rolling eyes…as at some point, she
Started writing, took up poetry.
Those rolling eyes and whys, recorded for posterity,
She reads to us one, two, three - her peculiarity.
Copyright ©
Kim Rodrigues
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